


keep a place for me

by renjeon



Series: do you think about me, too? [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bookstore AU, Brief heterosexuality, College AU, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mega Pining., Pining, Soulmate AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, WONSHUA, cancer mention, it's considered a warning., it’s kinda gross actually, sort of, the svt soulmate au no one asked for but got anyways, what’s it called when u pine over someone for multiple lifetimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 04:44:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11570580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renjeon/pseuds/renjeon
Summary: The bookstore disappeared, Seoul disappeared, the entirety of South Korea disappeared, and the pain and agony of waiting five lifetimes disappeared until the only thing left was this boy with loose brown waves of hair and tan skin and pale pink lips.





	keep a place for me

**Author's Note:**

> recently i became extremely fond of wonshua (during the while also becoming fond of gyuhao so you'll probably see [that](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14666268) around later) and i had this dead y******* soulmate fic sitting in my notes so i revived her and finished her and this is what came of it!
> 
> (the title is from “self control” by frank ocean, the most genius and beautiful song ever produced)
> 
> i hope you enjoy the story...i found myself very proud of the turnout but we'll see how long that lasts...,
> 
> thank you for reading! I LOVE YOU!
> 
> -a

In the first life, Wonwoo was an American military boy during the first world war. He remembers his soulmate nearly as clear as day. She was a volunteer nurse from the big city. She had golden brown skin, wispy chocolate curls, and a smile brighter than anything that had ever or would ever be hung up in the sky from the beginning of time to the last breaths of the universe. "It's a shame we have to meet like this," she had mumbled as he was pulled up to the hospital site sprawled across a stretcher, a sad kind of smile on her face. Her voice was like bells. He didn’t remember if he was too injured to speak or if the calm green field of her eyes had frozen his joints. All he could do was stare at her. It was as if a fire had ignited in his chest; not a painful one, but a warm one, like crackling firewood on a winter’s night. 

He would’ve remembered her name if she had told him what it was, but he didn’t live long enough to ask. They had moved him to a cot after treatment and he had died that night, the last thing he saw being the emerald eyes that had burned themselves under his skin.

The second lifetime was the first lonely one of many. He had looked in the mirror, shocked and overwhelmed, to see himself, but _not_ himself. He was an Irish girl born into a loud, big, big family. The rough, dusty, military boy image had been replaced by a rough, dusty, petite ginger girl with dark freckles and wide eyes. The only constant in that life was the unwavering image of the nurse girl from the battlefield behind Wonwoo’s eyelids. 

Wonwoo of the second life lived in the family bakery in the middle of whatever city, whatever town, whatever, Ireland. She hadn't cared; she only cared about finding the girl. Having been given another life, she was sure it was her purpose. There couldn’t be another reason she was dropped back on this floating rock. However, she quickly and quite harshly learned that talking about a supposed soulmate in this dull, late eighteenth century society would land one being referred to as the "loony bakery girl" wherever you walked in town. She lived a full and miserable life and died at 89 married to a deadbeat drunk she didn't love and two or so kids she kind of hated.

The third life was quick; diagnosed with leukemia at four, dead at nine. The fourth life was spent during the first Puritan settlements in America. Death by disease at thirty-one. By the fifth, Wonwoo — a figuratively starving artist in uptown Manhattan — stopped searching. His sun was gone. Fate said the night was there to stay. Death by literally starving at twenty-two.

In his sixth lifetime, Jeon Wonwoo was tired of being beamed back onto the earth’s crust in different bodies and lives like some kind of sci-fi character, but, being in the technological and rather exciting 21st century for a considerably longer time than he was in his third life, he decided the only way to delay his next reappearance was to hang around. So far, disease hadn't struck and there was no sign of the world ending anytime soon. In this lifetime, he was a 21-year-old in the middle of South Korea. He was in his sophomore year of college studying American and European literature. He had four close friends, a part-time job at a bookstore ten minutes away from the campus, and a lot of time on his hands in between studying and surviving. Living a pointless life wasn’t too bad, he’d decided. So that’s what he did.

It was Sunday. Wonwoo exhaled quickly, watching the oxygen previously inhabiting his lungs dance in the air in front of his face. He cupped the coffee in his hands tightly, bringing his face close to the opening in the lid and attempting to absorb all of its warmth through every bit of contact. Wonwoo often told himself that winter was his favorite season, but he hated feeling like his bones were utilizing extra effort to move whenever temperatures dropped. He tilted his head back to look at the sky above him. Gray and bleak. Not a unique sight in January. The crisp smell of snow was just beginning to prick at his nose as he entered the bookstore. There were the chimes above his head, and he inhaled the smell of pressed paper and aged print he had grown so accustomed to.

“Welcome to _Words for the Seoul_ , enjoy your- oh.” It was Soonyoung behind the front counter, Wonwoo’s coworker and best friend. He looked up from the open book on the desk in front of him that he previously seemed engrossed in, eyebrows suddenly furrowed in confusion. “Wonwoo? You aren’t scheduled today, are you?”

Wonwoo smiled a little and shuffled up to the counter, leaning against it with his elbows. He shook his head as he set his coffee down on the granite table top. “No, I just thought I’d drop by. I don’t have anything else to do today.”

Soonyoung hummed softly in response, nodding slightly. “Except get ready for school tomorrow, but understandable I guess,” he mumbled, studying Wonwoo’s face for a moment before returning his attention to the book he’d abandoned. “Enjoy your read, my man.”

Wonwoo pushed himself away from the counter with a hum and moved towards the first bookshelf, which the romance selection of the store inhabited. Romantic comedies, teen love stories, books that pull at the heartstrings and all that sappy stuff. Wonwoo wrinkled his nose a little, glancing back over his shoulder. “What book is it today?”

“ _Catcher in the Rye_ ,” Soonyoung called back without hesitation, eyes still glued to the pages. “It’s god awful. Rich people shouldn’t have shit to complain about, yet here’s a whole novel about it. It’s worse than Gatsby.”

Wonwoo laughed softly. He didn’t bother asking why Soonyoung continued to read it if it was that bad because he got the same answer every time (“It’s already wasted enough of my time; now I have nothing to lose.”) Instead he busied himself with sorting the books that were out of place, straightening the spines and returning them to alphabetical order they were in before customers took it upon themselves to shove them wherever they pleased. He wouldn’t be getting paid for it since he wasn’t on the clock, but he didn’t care. He loved literature, and he always had, and any chance to be around it was chance enough. Being in the bookstore was a safe space for him. He worked there because he enjoyed it.

The sound of the chimes indicated the opening of the door. “Hi, welcome to _Words for the Seoul_ ,” Wonwoo began before he could stop himself, quickly looking back at Soonyoung with a sheepish grin. It was a habit of his.

“Enjoy your read,” Soonyoung finished, returning the grin with an amused snort. 

The person who walked in was a boy, maybe a teenager. Wonwoo only caught the back of his head as he went towards the counter. “Uh,” the boy began. Wonwoo looked away from where his finger was rested against the jacket of a romance novel called _Summers in Paris_ , watching as Soonyoung shut his book and smiled kindly.

“What can I do for you?”

“I-I just moved into town,” the boy started, hand going to smooth the back of his hair, “and I seem to have gotten lost. I’m trying to find Chugye University…for registration before winter break ends and all that stuff.”

Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, finding himself studying the back view of the stranger. There was something off about his accent, and his clothes were strange in a discreet way. _A foreigner?_

Soonyoung’s eyebrows furrowed. “Chugye, Chugye…Wonwoo, you go to Chugye, don’t you?”

Blinking quickly, Wonwoo nodded, the hand pressed against the spine of the book dropping to his side. “Yeah,” he started, “it’s just down…” He trailed off because the boy had tilted his head back to look at him and suddenly he felt like his chest was being gripped by the burning hands of Hades. He was met with sharp, coffee brown eyes that seemed to look straight into his brain and short circuit the thing, and behind those brown eyes held a fleeting shine the color of green emeralds. The bookstore disappeared, Seoul disappeared, the entirety of South Korea disappeared, and the pain and agony of waiting five lifetimes disappeared until the only thing left was this boy with loose brown waves of hair and tan skin and pale pink lips that curled sweetly. “…The block,” Wonwoo finished, feeling like he’d just ran a marathon. His lungs were crunching in on themselves, and his heart rate increased tenfold.

“Down the block,” the boy repeated slowly. His voice was like bells. 

Wonwoo nodded, maybe a little too quickly, unable to rein in the electricity coursing through his body. “Past the- past the McDonald’s at the end of th-the street. Take a left and…it’s just…down there.”

The boy hesitated before his lips pulled into a smile, a perfect smile, a smile with gleaming white teeth that could’ve sent Wonwoo to his knees. “Thank you,” he chirped before dipping his head to both Soonyoung and Wonwoo, the latter earning a parting glance with something strange behind it. In a second, the chimes sounded, and he was gone.

It was silent. The only sound was the gentle whir of the air conditioning. Wonwoo tried to focus on anything but the lingering feeling of a heating lamp in his chest, leading him to meeting Soonyoung’s half-confused half-amused gaze. “The hell was that?” he snorted. Wonwoo couldn’t reply. He brought his hand up to his chest, clutching the front of his shirt. “That was love at first sight, I think,” Soonyoung continued, shaking his head in disbelief, “if I’ve ever seen it.”

All Wonwoo could do was exhale the breath he seemed to have been holding. He shoved himself away from the bookcase, snatching his now lukewarm coffee up off of the counter with shaky hands. “Not first sight,” he said quietly before leaving the shop.

 

“Mom?”

As time went on, simple tasks like speaking were taking more and more of Wonwoo’s energy. Having leukemia and being eight years old at the same time had to be some sort of moral crime. The fight had gone on for four years already, and Wonwoo knew the time was near for the fight to be over for good. It was in the way the nurse’s looked at her, the way her mom clutched her hand, the cries she heard from her father at night in the hospital room. She’d never seen her dad cry before.

“Yes, Leila?”

Wonwoo tilted her head in the direction of the voice. Her mom was there like she usually was, hunched against the hospital bed’s mattress. The light in her eyes had dulled over the years; the bright blue was now pale like a stormy sky, and they met her daughter’s eyes with the glimpse of a void. Wonwoo forced a tiny smile onto her face. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

Wonwoo’s mom was quiet for a moment. Finally she smiled back, eyes crinkling. “Soulmates,” she repeated. “There’s got to be something like that in this world, huh?” Her voice was distant, but it usually got like that these days. Her thumb rubbed against the back of Wonwoo’s hand in soothing circles. 

“What do you think it’s like?”

She fell quiet again, thinking, probably. Wonwoo watched her face closely, watching the way her eyes casted down. “Well,” she began slowly and cautiously, “I think if one was to meet their soulmate…they’d just know. Probably the same as falling in love. You’d feel like they’re the only person in the world.” 

Wonwoo didn’t have the strength to nod. She just hummed a little. The image of the green eyes, the brown curls, flashed in her mind. “If you saw them once, you’d…” She trailed off, picking her words carefully (she was already in a hospital; she didn’t need to be transferred to a _mental_ one for spewing on about a soulmate she had in a different timeline). “…You’d see them again, right? Like, later?”

Wonwoo’s mom laughed. It was a sound she rarely heard anymore, but she loved it than anything in this life. _When I’m gone, I’ll miss her the most_. “Of course you would, Leila,” her mom spoke softly. “Soulmates are destined to be together in the end.”

Wonwoo was relieved to hear these words. “Is…dad your soulmate?” she asked jokingly, enjoying the light squeeze her hand received from her mother.

“Maybe he is, my little Lei.” Then a pause. “I think only special people are blessed with soulmates. I bet you have one.”

Wonwoo fell asleep soon after that, a soft smile on her face.

 

Wonwoo couldn’t think. Ever since he saw the boy from the bookstore the morning before, his brain was a flattened pancake of its previous form. He was walking up the front steps to school, to Chugye University of Fine Arts, and he felt like a ghost. All he could do was hope to God he hadn’t lost his soulmate again. But he couldn’t have, right? Not when they were supposedly attending the same school. They _had_ to find each other again.

But they didn’t. Not for a while, at least. A full week had passed before, on some terms of coincidence, Wonwoo’s body collided with another in the middle of the halls. He had barely felt it; the constant numbness in his brain had spread to his whole body. It wasn’t until he glanced up to dip his head in a half-assed apology when he was face to face with those eyes. The numb tingle in his body faded away instantly to be replaced with a familiar and overwhelming warmth that bloomed from his chest and wrapped around him. He tilted his head back, lips parting in awe.

The boy looked confused for a second, staring down at Wonwoo with furrowed eyebrows, but then his face softened. “Book store boy,” he breathed out. His voice vibrated with something that sounded like relief. “You _do_ go here.”

Wonwoo straightened himself up slowly, unable to keep his eyes off of his soulmate. “Uh,” was all he said in response.

“I didn’t think I’d ever…ah! Your books!” Then the boy was on his knees, grabbing frantically at a textbook and a few spirals that had crashed onto the tile floors. “I completely knocked them out of your hands! I’m so, so sorry.” A breath, and a laugh. “It’s a shame we have to meet like this.”

Wonwoo stood, dumbfounded, before he realized _oh. My books. I was holding books._ He kept his eyes locked on the boy on the ground, and the fondness in his chest seemed to double. His soulmate was still kind. Still helping him.

Wonwoo allowed the books to be pressed into his hands as the boy stood up and brushed his shirt off. He smiled, trying not to stare _too_ intensely. “Thank you...” he started quietly, earning a beaming grin in response, “…uh...”

“Jisoo,” the boy, now with a name, supplied. “Hong Jisoo. Second year.”

Hong Jisoo. Jisoo…Hong. Ji Soo. Jisoo, Jisoo, Jisoo. The name sang like a choir in his ears. He realized he probably spent too long sinking into the void of Jisoo’s name when the boy belonging to that name began to blink his eyes in expectation and smile hopefully. Wonwoo blanked under the gaze, finally concluding that he was expected to supply his own name in response, if the brown lasers burning into his soul were as telling as they looked. “I...J-Jeon Wonwoo,” he stammered pathetically.

Jisoo’s smile grew impossibly bigger the second the name left Wonwoo’s quivering lips, eyes brimming to the edges with satisfaction. “Nice to properly meet you.” Wonwoo’s insides fluttered.

There was a bell overhead, reminding Wonwoo that there actually was a world around him, a world outside of Hong Jisoo, and he had to attend it. “The bell,” Jisoo said as if a part of the same mind, one hand going to the strap on his backpack. “Guess I’ll see you around, Jeon Wonwoo.”

A shiver rolled up Wonwoo’s spine at the sound of his name being spoken. No other name he had was important. His name would forever be Jeon Wonwoo, no matter how many times he was shoved back onto this god forsaken earth.

And Jisoo was gone, the pink tint of his cheeks not fully registered by Wonwoo’s eyes before he whisked himself away. Wonwoo was left in the middle of the corridor, every inch of his body tingling.

All of Wonwoo’s classes floated by in a blissful blur. The day carried him straight to his shift at the bookstore. The chimes sounded, followed by a loud “oh, thank God.” It was Seungkwan behind the counter today, seeming to melt as he saw Wonwoo’s figure come through the door. He practically ripped his name tag off, letting out a long breath. “You’re eager to leave,” Wonwoo observed with a snort, shuffling behind the counter.

Seungkwan, who had clocked out faster than lightning, let out an exasperated groan. “Some girl came in this morning and asked me if we have copies of the Torah. The _Torah_ , Wonwoo. What do we look like? A messianic synagogue? We don’t even sell Bibles!”

Wonwoo reached into his shirt pocket for his employee card, swiping it in the card slot on the computer to clock himself in. He smiled lightly. “Maybe we should.”

“Then what? The Qur’an? The Book of Mormon?”

Seungkwan slipped a pair of sunglasses onto his face, slinging a book bag over his shoulder. As he was leaving, he gave Wonwoo, who was pulling his nametag over his head to hang around his neck, a brief once-over. “You seem happy.” He lifted his hand in a weak wave. “Good luck today.”

Grinning, Wonwoo waved him out the door. “Bye, Seungkwan.”

The bookstore was normally quiet. Wonwoo had suspected it would go out of business soon. With technology growing as fast as it was, there wasn’t a huge need for physical books anymore. The customers were usually an assortment of high school students needing to buy books for their classes or older people who were foreign to the concept of tablets.

It was 7:00, two hours past the start of the shift. The sky was dark and a flurry of snow had begun to drift down from the sky. In the prolonged silence, the sound of chimes echoed through the empty air. Wonwoo, was halfway through _Summers in Paris_ when he tore his eyes away to attend to the door. Hong Jisoo was there, bundled head to toe. Wonwoo guffawed.

His hair was stuffed underneath a gray knit beanie. There was a matching scarf wrapped five times over around his neck. He had on a navy blue Chugye sweatshirt, a heavy black leather coat over it, and gray sweatpants. Despite the amount of layers he had on, the tip of his nose and the edges of his ears were bright red. He blinked his eyes, his gorgeous chocolate eyes, and let out a breath through chapped lips. “Jeon Wonwoo?”

“Hong Jisoo,” was what Wonwoo said in response, maybe a little too quickly. He spoke it like it was the only name he was ever meant to say. The way it glided off of his tongue sent warmth shooting to the soles of his shoes. 

The door clattered shut. Jisoo shuffled closer to the counter, stopping a few feet away. He was shivering, but there was a smile on his face. “You’re here,” he spoke out (that wasn’t relief in his voice, was it?), and _God_ , if it was possible to bathe in a voice, Wonwoo would do it for the rest of his life. 

“I’m here,” Wonwoo repeated, quiet and slow, trying to form his lips over the words without stumbling over them. The pages of _Summers in Paris_ fluttered shut.

Jisoo, rubbing the back of his neck lightly, took another nervous step towards the counter. “I just…” he began before clearing his throat, “I just thought I’d drop by and…check out some books.” His eyes were anywhere but on Wonwoo, studying the carpet floors or scanning the bookshelves. 

Wonwoo echoed, “books,” trying not to stare too hard at the adorable flush of Jisoo’s nose. There was a beat, the silent gap between them filled by the light growl of air conditioning. “What kind of books are you looking for?” Wonwoo attempted after a while, sentence fizzing in the air when Jisoo looked up. They locked eyes.

“I know you,” Jisoo stated. Wonwoo’s heart skipped. “I-I don’t know how, but you’re so…”

Wonwoo didn’t know when Jisoo had moved up to the counter, but he was there, face a foot or two away from Wonwoo’s, hands braced on the countertop. “Familiar?” Wonwoo offered to seal the end of the open sentence, cheeks starting to flush. Jisoo breathed out a flat kind of chuckle, glancing away.

“Weird, right,” Jisoo sighed out. His lips were curled in dry amusement. “I mean, there’s no way I know you, right? I’ve never met you.”

Wonwoo could’ve laughed. He just nodded, looking down at the counter. He didn’t think about whether Jisoo would remember him or not, and it seemed the latter was correct. He couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach. How funny it was that someone’d he’d missed for half a dozen lifetimes suddenly showed up more times than he could count, and the one he’d been waiting for didn’t have any recollection of him. It was rather bittersweet. Extra bitter.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird,” Jisoo rushed out, hands coming up to cover his face. He laughed into them, eyes scrunching, and Wonwoo looked up in time for the sight to deliver a swift punch to his stomach. “Anyways,” the boy started again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other repeatedly, “I didn’t really need books. I was just hoping you were here so I could try to figure out where I know you from. No luck, I guess.”

Wonwoo smiled a little, letting his eyes graze over Jisoo’s soft features. He was so, so beautiful. “Maybe next time,” he offered lightheartedly, tilting his head to the side. How was he supposed to tell him? _Oh, hey, I know where you know me from! Mid 1917. America. You were a pretty nurse._

Jisoo hadn’t noticed Wonwoo’s most likely visible dilemma, instead taking the chance in the silence to sweep his eyes over the bookstore. The dim yellow lighting from inside collided with the pale shine from outside, causing Jisoo’s face to illuminate in the most angelic way. Wonwoo allowed himself to stare, lips pulling up in a fond smile.

 

Wonwoo and Jisoo ended up hanging out together more often, but always in a group. The bookstore employees had essentially adopted Jisoo (as he was there on most days “checking out the books”), giving all nine of the regular workers each a chance to shower him in adoration. It was as if he was some sort of angel sent to spread tranquility, which, to Wonwoo, didn’t seem far out of the question.

It was a few weeks after winter break had ended, and Seungkwan’s birthday was near. Of course he would be the one to make a big deal out of his birthday, planning a party at his house and decorating fancy invitations and creating a weird “birthday schedule” of festival activities. Wonwoo was scanning over the birthday schedule, nose crinkling, as Jisoo stepped into the bookstore. Wonwoo tore his gaze away from the paper with a light smile of greeting. He didn’t focus too much on the warm feeling in his chest anymore whenever he saw him; it was almost permanent.

“You got it too, huh?” Jisoo came up and leaned on the counter like he always did, elbow nearly touching Wonwoo’s. He held up a piece of paper similar to the one Wonwoo was looking at, letting out a laugh. “How long has he been this extra?”

“Since I’ve known him,” Wonwoo admitted, eyes rolling but a grin on his face nonetheless. Seungkwan was overbearing and loud and obnoxious but he was endearing, too, and kind. Wonwoo had accepted long ago that this was the way that he was, and he loved him for it.

He looked over at Jisoo, who didn’t fail to overwhelm him with his appearance. He was staring at the wall behind the counter, profile on full view. Wonwoo studied the dip of his nose, the feather of his eyelashes, the plumpness of his lips. It was like he became more beautiful every day. “Are you going to go?” he asked after a while, finally dragging his eyes away from the boy next to him. He folded up the party schedule and stuffed it into his back pocket.

“Go where?” Jisoo asked, tilting his head. “The party?” Wonwoo nodded. Jisoo hummed. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo breathed. He allowed his eyes to return to Jisoo, who was looking at him with wide, curious eyes. _Cute_. “My head would be on a pike if I didn’t go.”

Jisoo hummed again, a light and airy sound. He did that a lot when he was thinking; it was one of the many endearing habits Wonwoo had picked up on, like when he rubs the back of his head when he’s nervous or when he wrinkles his face when he’s confused. “I’ll go, then,” Jisoo concluded. He tilted his head, lips turning up into a smile. Wonwoo mirrored it, unable to hide the flush in his cheeks.

 

Wonwoo could already hear the chorus of familiar yelling and he wasn’t even inside yet. He brought his fist up to knock on Seungkwan’s door, flinching when the door was already being pulled open. Jeonghan, one of the senior workers at the bookstore, was on the other side, a bright smile crossing his face as he registered Wonwoo’s startled figure. “Jeon!” Jeonghan near squealed, eyes glittering. He yanked Wonwoo inside to envelop him in one of his warm hugs. Wonwoo laughed and hugged him back, keeping his hand clamped around the gift bag in his hands. 

“Hi, Yoon,” Wonwoo replied, finally being released with a kind smile.

“Presents are in the dining room,” Jeonghan announced above the boisterous chatter that was dispersed across the house. He gave Wonwoo a soft pat on the small of his back before leaving his side to go to the living room. Wonwoo toed his sneakers off (he knew how anal Seungkwan got about people keeping their shoes on in his house) and weaved his way around party streamers and birthday balloons to get to the kitchen.

Upon entering the room, the first thing Wonwoo noticed was the mountain of gifts sitting on top of the dining table. He glanced down at the gift bag in his hands, briefly wondering how he’d go about balancing it on top like the star on a Christmas tree. The next thing he noticed was Soonyoung barreling towards him, engulfing him in a bear-hug. He stumbled against the weight, unable to help the laugh that forced itself out of his lungs.

“You made it!” Soonyoung wailed in his ears, latching onto him. Wonwoo grunted, starting to shuffle towards the dining room with all of Soonyoung’s weight pressed into him.

“Of course I made it,” he forced out, dipping his head slightly to Junhui, an employee who had started a few months after Wonwoo. He was leaning against the kitchen island, speaking in hushed Mandarin to a slightly shorter and thinner boy, and he spared a tiny bow and a bright grin in Wonwoo’s direction as he passed. When Wonwoo reached the table, he plopped his present on the very top of the gift hill.

Soonyoung’s hold finally loosened on the taller one. “I just wanted to make sure you were coming,” he insisted, stepping away. He leaned back against the table, lips suddenly pulling up into a smirk. “Jisoo’s here.”

Wonwoo wrinkled his nose at the sound of the name that never failed to send shivers down his spine. “I didn’t ask yet.”

“You were going to.”

There was a beat of silence. Soonyoung was the first one to make the observation all the way back when Jisoo had entered _Words for the Seoul_ for the first time, knowing good and well that Wonwoo was head over heels. Wonwoo hadn’t told him anything about the soulmate conundrum, but Soonyoung probably could’ve assumed as much. He was incredible when it came to reading people.

“In the living room,” Soonyoung added. When Wonwoo gave him a confused look, he rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Jisoo’s in the living room, dolt.”

Unwillingly, Wonwoo blushed. He opened his mouth to protest, something like ‘why do you assume I’m only here to see him,’ but instead he nodded with a soft grumble of “thanks” and retreated to the living room before Soonyoung could fluster him further.

When he entered the living room, he saw a circle starting to form. Jisoo, who was too invested in a conversation with Seokmin, an employee who’d been hired around the same time as Soonyoung and went to high school with Wonwoo, was sitting on the opposite side of the room from where Wonwoo was standing. He hadn’t looked up yet, allowing Wonwoo to shuffle towards the circle and plop down between Seungkwan and a boy he hadn’t met before. Seungkwan turned his head towards Wonwoo and let out a light gasp.

“You came!” Seungkwan cheered, throwing himself at Wonwoo. Wonwoo groaned, wedging his hands in between their chests.

“Why is everyone so surprised to see me here?” he muttered disapprovingly, gaze dragging towards Jisoo like a magnet. Jisoo was looking at him now, eyes glittering under the chandelier and teeth glinting white as he smiled, and Wonwoo couldn’t help but stare back blankly. He looked stunning. He always did, but that didn’t keep it from shocking Wonwoo every time they met.

“It’s just nice seeing you here,” Seungkwan was saying, but it sounded far off. Wonwoo finally snapped out of his reverie, smiling timidly, before averting his gaze to the Seungkwan.

“Happy birthday,” he said with a grin. Seungkwan smiled back, ten times bigger, and slung an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Thank you, hyung.” Seungkwan then leaned over, nuzzling Wonwoo’s cheek affectionately. Wonwoo grimaced.

The boy next to Wonwoo was introduced as Hansol, who gave him a soft smile and a polite nod. Jeonghan had sat next to him with Seungcheol on his left, and next to him was Jihoon, then Seokmin, Jisoo, Mingyu, another boy Wonwoo didn’t know, Seungkwan, and himself. Upon Seungkwan getting up and announcing he was going to get presents, Junhui and the boy he was talking to placed themselves in the circle between Wonwoo and the stranger boy. Seungkwan returned a moment later with half a monument of gifts in his arms, Soonyoung following close behind with the other half (or Wonwoo _thought_ it was Soonyoung…he couldn’t see past all of the presents). Both piles were dropped in the middle, earning a few sounds of awe from the group. Wonwoo caught sight of Jisoo behind the pile who was staring with childlike wonder at the display.

Clapping his hands together, Seungkwan sank back into the circle between Mingyu and the stranger boy called Chan while Soonyoung squeezed in next to Wonwoo and Junhui’s friend who was later identified as Minghao. “Time to open presents!” Seungkwan hollered, followed by a chorus of throaty cheers from around the circle.

The first gift Seungkwan opened was Mingyu’s. It was extremely big, about twice the length of his own torso. He opened it excitedly only to have his smile drop as an oversized Barbie car with pale blue (poorly drawn) flames and a hot pink finish was revealed beneath the wrapping paper. “Mingyu, you asshole,” Seungkwan shouted over the laughter, while Mingyu insisted “you said you wanted a car!”

Wonwoo’s gift was fifth down the list, which was starting to seem rather tiny and insignificant compared to all of the other presents: Jeonghan had gotten him a button-up with cuffed sleeves (“I thought you’d look hot in it”), Hansol had gotten a digital photo frame that switched through pictures of them, most of them having Seungkwan looking bright and pudgy and pre-pubescent, and Soonyoung had gotten a wall-length mirror that Seungkwan almost cried over. When Seungkwan finished with opening the first few gifts and read the name Wonwoo’s bag, his face lit up. “Wonwoo hyung shows up to my party _and_ brings me a present? This is really a magical day.”

“You’d think I don’t do anything for you all,” Wonwoo snorted, only slightly offended, earning a hair ruffle from Soonyoung. 

Seungkwan peeled the wrapping paper out of the bag and tossed it to the side, peeking into the bag and letting out a gasp. He suddenly tipped the bag upside down and dumped the contents out, causing Wonwoo to flinch painfully.

“ _Ya_ , that was expensive!”

Grinning widely, Seungkwan ignored his protest, holding the polished watch gingerly in his hands. It was black on the exterior, the face of the watch being a crisp rose gold. He had clipped the watch on his wrist and held his arm out straight in front of him all within a few seconds, eyes disappearing beneath his cheeks as he grinned. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” Seungkwan mused. Wonwoo blushed.

“It’s not that exciting,” Wonwoo mumbled underneath the sounds of awe coming from the circle, not used to so much praise for something he did. “I just knew you needed a watch after you stepped on your last one. If you break this one, you’re dead.” He glanced up to peek at Jisoo, who he’d almost forgotten to be nervous about, and saw him staring at the watch too, blinking quickly in astonishment.

Suddenly, Seungkwan was getting up from the circle and lunging at Wonwoo, almost bowling him over. He placed a sloppy kiss to Wonwoo’s forehead, arms boa constricting around his form. The older boy shied away, cheeks flushing. “Thank you,” Seungkwan breathed loudly, squeezing his bigger yet weaker figure beneath him. Wonwoo groaned, shying away from the friendly pecks Seungkwan was placing all over his face (he was only doing it because he knew Wonwoo loathed it). He finally managed to shove Seungkwan off, allowing a laugh to pass his lips.

“It’s nothing,” Wonwoo murmured, starting to wipe his face off. Seungkwan returned to his spot to continue the opening of presents.

The hand reaching for another gift brought Wonwoo’s attention to the warm brown eyes staring at him from across the circle. Jisoo had his eyes locked on Wonwoo and his gaze was swimming with an emotion so strong Wonwoo thought he was looking at a moment he wasn’t supposed to. Wonwoo glanced away sheepishly, attention pivoting to where Seungkwan was tearing at another wrapped box, but he allowed his eyes to gravitate back to Jisoo. He was still staring. Suddenly, the color dropped from his face and his eyes widened, and Wonwoo didn’t know what to do, so he stared back. Jisoo’s mouth opened like he was about to speak, and then he shut it quickly. Wonwoo was about to ask why he looked like he’d seen a ghost when Jisoo shot up from his spot quickly. The room quieted at the sudden motion.

“I need some air.” His voice was soft, distant. He kept his eyes on Wonwoo before he spun around and left the room. The sound of the front door sliding shut indicated that he had left.

There was an uncomfortable silence that settled in the room. “What was that?” Seungkwan asked eventually, voice timid.

Wonwoo wasn’t shocked out of his stunned silence until he felt Soonyoung’s elbow dig into his ribs. “Well,” he said pointedly, causing Wonwoo’s head to turn slowly in his direction, “go get him.”

“Me?” Wonwoo asked dumbly. Rolling his eyes, Soonyoung shoved at him until he staggered to his feet. “Jeez, okay,” Wonwoo grunted. He dusted his shirt off and exited the living room, listening for the return of the buzzing of voices before leaving the house.

At first he didn’t see Jisoo, causing a small feeling of panic to tug at his stomach, but then he located him. He was a little ways down the sidewalk, illuminated by the dull streetlamp a few feet away from him. Wonwoo’s feet dragged as he made his way towards him.

When he was a few feet away, Jisoo whipped around, causing Wonwoo to stop in his tracks. He looked beautiful out here; hair tousled by the wind, face glowing from the light of the moon, lips curling the way they always do. They held each others’ gazes, the only sound being the rustling of the leaves beneath the wind’s embrace.

“I remember you,” Jisoo said, voice so quiet it was almost carried north by the breeze.

Wonwoo blinked slowly, the gravity of the words taking too long to settle. “You…remember me?”

“Wonwoo,” Jisoo exhaled. His breath danced in the air in front of his frost-bitten lips. “I _remember_ you, Wonwoo. I don’t- I don’t know what’s happening.” He was bouncing on his toes now, pulling his hands into the sleeves of his sweater, and his breath was coming quicker. “One second I’m- I’m watching Seungkwan, like, kiss you or something” - the word _kiss_ brought a sour expression to his face - “and the next I’m…looking at you…no, not you, but…it’s you. And you’re on some hospital bed and there’s…a war? Then you die and- Wonwoo, I don’t know what’s going on.”

Wonwoo didn’t know when he became so close to Jisoo, but their chests were almost touching, so he reached up and cupped Jisoo’s face in his hands. The skin was cold against his palms. He looked down at Jisoo, at the red tip of his nose and the nervous flutter of his eyelashes, and he exhaled softly against his forehead. “Jisoo,” he mumbled, and Jisoo looked up at him, “I know.” He swallowed. “It was the first life.”

Jisoo blinked slowly, looking conflicted. He doesn’t move away, though. “The what?”

“The first life,” Wonwoo repeated, “when we first met.” When there’s a beat of tense silence, Wonwoo continued, hands sliding from Jisoo’s cheeks to the sides of his neck. He made sure to keep his voice quiet and careful. “I’ve been stuck on this goddamned earth looking for you, Hong Jisoo. It only took five more lives for you to finally come back.”

Jisoo’s eyebrows furrowed, and he placed his hands on Wonwoo’s forearms to push him away. “That doesn’t make any s-“

Wonwoo kisses Jisoo. He kisses Jisoo like he doesn’t want him to leave, which he doesn’t, and he kisses him to make up for all five lives when he didn’t. Jisoo’s lips are soft and warm, causing the familiar heat to puddle in Wonwoo’s chest. Jisoo was rigid at first, but then he kissed back heavily and hesitantly brought his hands up to Wonwoo’s face, and the pads of his fingers felt like hot fire on Wonwoo’s skin. Wonwoo rested his hands against the base of Jisoo’s back, holding onto the shirt there. They stayed like that for what felt like a whole other lifetime before Wonwoo pulled away slowly. Their lips lingered above each others’ as they searched for air. Wonwoo felt like he was in flames.

“Soulmates,” he said after a while. Jisoo just laughs, breathy and lovely and Wonwoo thanked whoever put him here that he gets to hear that sound every day.

“Soulmates,” Jisoo echoed. One of his hands slipped down to Wonwoo’s chest, the other starting to rub soft circles against Wonwoo’s jaw. “And you knew this whole time?”

Wonwoo hummed in response, placing another chaste kiss to Jisoo’s lips. “It shocked me, too, at first.” He paused. “You left me alone for four lives, you asshole.”

Jisoo laughed again, breath dancing against Wonwoo’s lips. “If I had known I would’ve shown up a lot sooner.”

“Bullshit.”

And they kissed again beneath the winter moon at the corner of whatever street and whatever drive under the beating of the cold wind and the soft flurry of snow that had begun to fall from the heavens. For once, Wonwoo was glad to live this pointless life until the very end.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: buseoksun.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @leunseos


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